


Sweet Tooth

by flammable_grimm_pitch



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Dentistry, Dentists, Fic Exchange, Fluff, M/M, Post-Watford (Simon Snow), Snowbaz Sweethearts Exchange, Vampire Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Wisdom Teeth, blood mention, but not graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:35:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29420970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flammable_grimm_pitch/pseuds/flammable_grimm_pitch
Summary: Simon has to have his wisdom teeth removed, but he's never even been to a dentist. Baz tags along for moral support (and kisses).
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 12
Kudos: 99
Collections: Snowbaz Sweethearts Fic Exchange 2021





	Sweet Tooth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [messofthejess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/messofthejess/gifts).



> For my sweetheart, Jess. Happy Valentine's Day!
> 
> Technically this is canon-compliant pre-WS, but no one uses magic in this story because I liked the idea of mages going to a Normal dentist.
> 
> CW: Mentions of blood and dental surgery, but nothing too graphic.

“My teeth hurt,” Simon announced over dinner. His lower jaw jutted out as he poked around his mouth with his tongue, searching for the source of the pain. “At least, I think it’s my teeth. Teeth have nerves in them, yeah?”

“What makes you think I know anything about teeth?” Baz asked, raising a dark eyebrow. “Last I checked, I was pursuing a degree in English literature, not dentistry.”

“Well, I just thought…” Simon stopped mid-sentence, catching himself before he could say something silly. “Er, never mind.”

“Go on,” Baz encouraged. “I’ll try not to laugh, I promise.”

“Prat,” Simon snorted. “Fine. I thought that maybe, since you have special teeth—”

“Fangs,” Baz supplied helpfully.

“That’s what I said. Anyway, I thought maybe you knew something about teeth because you’ve got extra ones.” Simon’s eyebrows drew together for a moment as he thought about Baz’s fangs. “Wait, do vampires have to see a special dentist?”

“Let’s go back to the bit about your teeth hurting,” Baz suggested, uninterested in discussing a promising career in supernatural dentistry. “Is it just one area that hurts, or your whole jaw?”

“Mostly here at the back,” Simon explained, his voice becoming distorted as he popped a finger into his mouth and started prodding at the sensitive area in the back. “Ow.”

“I’m legitimately afraid to ask, but when was the last time you flossed?” Baz wondered, watching his boyfriend’s oral spelunking attempts with a mixture of disgust and amusement.

“Dunno,” Simon shrugged, wiping his saliva-slick finger on a serviette. “When was the last time we ate corn on the cob?”

“You should be flossing daily,” Baz chastised gently. "It’s even more important than brushing, I’ve heard.”

“Huh. Hadn’t heard that one,” Simon hummed, returning to his meal, which he chewed with much more delicacy than usual. Baz figured he probably had a bit of meat or perhaps a popcorn kernel stuck between two molars, and that things would go back to normal for Simon in a day or so.

But they didn’t.

“I think you should make an appointment with your dentist,” Penny suggested when Simon brought it up again the following weekend while they were watching some shit film together in the sitting room of their flat. “They’ll be able to take x-rays and see whether you’ve got a cavity or something that’s causing the pain.”

“Isn’t that expensive?” Simon asked with a nervous chuckle. Baz and Penny just stared at him.

“You have _been_ to a dentist before, right?” Baz questioned.

“Can’t remember,” Simon admitted. “I’ve never had anything wrong with my teeth before, so there was no point in going.”

“No point in—” Penny spluttered incredulously. “Simon, they clean your teeth! You’re supposed to go every six months!”

“I brush my teeth twice a day,” Simon insisted, crossing his arms defensively. “Why would I need them to do it for me?”

“If you’re asking that question, then you definitely haven’t been to a dentist,” Baz groaned, internally cursing the Mage for his uselessness as a guardian. “I’ll make you an appointment to see mine as soon as possible. Don’t worry about the cost. I’ve got coverage through work, and as my common-law partner, you’ll be covered as well.”

“Is that really necessary?” Simon asked with a sigh. “I don’t know how I feel about—”

“You’re going,” Baz insisted firmly. And _that_ was the end of the discussion.

* * * * *

“Good afternoon, Simon,” greeted a woman in navy scrubs as she walked into the exam room and closed the door behind her. She smiled at Simon, who was seated in the reclining hydraulic chair. “And hello to you as well, Basil.” From his seat in the moral support chair in the corner, Baz glanced up from the months-old tabloid he was perusing to give the woman a quick wave.

“Hullo,” Simon replied, looking her up and down. She was a stout, plump woman in her mid-forties with kind, brown eyes — both professional and trustworthy, Simon decided immediately.

“My name is Dr. Anita Harding,” she continued, adjusting her cartoon tooth-patterned scrub cap before turning on the taps to wash her hands in the sink along the small room’s back counter. “I’m the primary dentist here, and I’ve come to discuss a few things with you.”

The hygienist had been in before her, and had performed Simon’s first-ever dental cleaning. She’d poked around his mouth with a pointy metal tool, used some sort of ‘ultrasonic’ machine to scrape tartar from the backs of his teeth, and to his great delight, he’d been able to hold the curved suction wand and use it whenever he wanted. His mouth tasted like bubblegum and mint, a surprisingly delicious combination that he’d been able to choose from a variety of fun flavours in which the dental office offered toothpaste and fluoride.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but your teeth are in incredibly good shape for someone who’s gone nearly 20 years without a cleaning,” Dr. Harding exclaimed, smiling brilliantly at her newest client. Her teeth were straight and white, and Simon he wondered if she’d needed braces, or if her teeth had come in naturally perfect like Baz’s.

“Really?” Simon asked, his eyes widening in surprise. “Well, that’s good, yeah?”

“You only have one dental carie — that’s the technical term for an area of decay in a tooth,” she continued, pulling his x-rays from a slim file folder, “And I think I’ve found the source of your pain.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding. “So you just fix the tooth, and then it won’t hurt anymore? That sounds easy enough.”

“Not quite,” Dr. Harding cautioned, switching on the light board attached to the wall and sliding the black film into place so that she could show them the images taken of Simon’s teeth. “If you’ll look here, Simon, you’ll see that you have some wisdom teeth coming in, on either side of your lower jaw.” She pointed to two angled teeth on the far sides of the elongated view of his teeth.

“They’re not meant to be all sideways like that?” Simon guessed, poking a finger against his cheek to see if he could feel a new tooth. (Definitely not; in retrospect, he realized it had been silly to even try.)

“Exactly. There isn’t room in your mouth for them to come in, so they’re growing in at an angle and putting pressure on the teeth in front of them,” the dentist explained, pointing at the X-ray and using her finger to show the direction of growth. She also indicated an area of shadowing on one tooth. “A dental carie has developed where your bottom left wisdom tooth is pressing against your molar, making it easy for bits of food to get trapped between them, and thus, the perfect environment for bacteria to thrive and eat away at the enamel of your tooth. It’s normal to have some sensitivity when wisdom teeth are coming in, but the severity of the tooth decay in your molar is what I believe to be causing you the most discomfort.”

“So, um, can you fix that?” Simon asked, chewing his lower lip. He knew that caries could be drilled out and filled in, but was clueless about the rest of it. Was he in for a long day at the dentist, he wondered, or would they need to schedule another appointment?

“The extraction of wisdom teeth is a relatively simple procedure conducted by an oral surgeon,” Dr. Harding assured him with a gentle smile.

“Surgeon?” Simon yelped, glancing frantically towards Baz, who hurried to his side and slid an arm around his shoulders, ignoring the awkward height difference created by the dental chair.

“Not to worry, darling,” Baz murmured, glaring daggers at the dentist over top of Simon’s head. “I know it sounds scary, but Dr. Harding will explain the process, and then you won’t be so nervous.”

Simon doubted that very much. Despite all the injuries he’d experienced over the years, despite being in countless battles with dangerous magickal creatures, he’d never had a surgery done, let alone been to a hospital. He’d seen them in films — blood spraying the doctor’s uniforms, shouts of _“he’s coding!”_ There wasn’t a chance in hell he’d be talked into lying on an operating table to have his teeth surgically removed.

“Can’t you just, you know, yank them out?” Simon questioned desperately, squeezing Baz’s hand hard enough to make his joints pop. “Shoot me up with some painkillers and have at it?”

“Unfortunately not,” the dentist said, pressing her lips together in sympathy. “But rest assured, I will refer you to the best oral surgeon in the city, Dr. Summers. She’s done hundreds, if not thousands of wisdom teeth extractions over the years, and her surgery has top-of-the-line equipment. We’ll get you scheduled in with her as soon as possible, and once you’ve healed up, we can get that decaying molar sorted, all right?”

“Thank you so much, Dr. Harding,” Baz said appreciatively, as Simon was neither grateful nor willing to thank the woman for her professional advice. “Dr. Summers removed my stepmother’s wisdom teeth, if I remember correctly, and Daphne was very pleased with the results.” He smiled down at Simon, his expression confident. “Your mouth will be feeling better in no time, love. I’m sure of it.”

* * * * *

Ignoring Simon’s vehement refusal to schedule his surgery with Dr. Summers’ office, Baz went ahead and set things up for the following week. Just enough time that Simon could prepare himself emotionally for the experience, Penny had suggested, but not enough that he could arrange to flee the country beforehand to avoid it.

In the meantime, his teeth started to hurt even worse, so that he couldn’t eat anything that required much chewing, or that was of an extreme temperature, which left out ice cream and soup. One day, he lived off store-bought jelly cups, porridge, and mashed potatoes. Another day, there was hardly a moment when the blender wasn’t blitzing up bits of fruit, yogurt, and juice for Simon’s smoothies. Penny banned him from any more smoothie days after complaints from the neighbours about the constant noise, and complaints from Baz about the bathroom always being occupied by Simon, who had to piss no fewer than 15 times after consuming so much liquid.

Simon was also maxing out the daily limit of paracetamol a person could take in an attempt to curb the pain in his mouth. He tossed and turned all night, jostling Baz awake every hour with his restlessness. Simon zombie’d his way through work each day, and in the evenings, sat around and moped, saying as few words as possible because it hurt to move his jaw. Although Baz and Penny felt bad for Simon’s predicament, his dour attitude was making everyone miserable. The date of the surgery couldn’t come soon enough, as far as they were concerned.

* * * * *

“I can’t do this,” Simon declared, staring up at the high-rise in which the oral surgeon’s practice was located. “I’ve dealt with worse pain than this on missions for the Mage. And so what if I’ve got a cavity in one tooth? That’s why I’ve got a whole mouthful of them.” He was speaking quickly and starting to ramble, both signs that his anxiety was getting the best of him.

“Darling,” Baz sighed, wrapping his arms around Simon’s middle and resting his chin on the man’s shoulder. “I know you’re nervous about this, but we’ve talked it all over many times now. You know exactly what’s going to happen up there. Like Dr. Harding says, this is a common procedure, and in the very unlikely event that you respond poorly to the anesthesia—”

“It’s not that,” Simon broke in, turning around to face Baz. “I’m not nervous that I’m going to bleed to death, or have an allergic reaction to the drugs. It’s just…”

“Just…?” Baz prompted gently.

“I hate being out of control,” Simon admitted, his gaze trained on the sidewalk beneath him. “The drugs they give me will mess with my head — I’ve seen all those videos of people acting loopy.” With a soft sigh, he leaned forward and rested his head in the crook of Baz’s neck. “What if I say something terrible, or go off on someone without meaning to?”

“Is that what you’re worried about?”

Setting his hands on Simon’s shoulders, Baz pushed him back far enough so that he could look into his lovely blue eyes. It was a rarity that Simon allowed himself to be vulnerable, to say what it was he was really thinking and feeling in his moments of distress, so Baz had to be cautious in his approach if he ever wanted Simon to open up to him again.

“Simon, I hear you saying that you’re afraid of how you might behave because of the meds they’ll use to sedate you during the surgery. I’ve seen those videos, too. But,” Baz opined sagely, “I think that those drugs just take away a person’s inhibitions — their filter, so to speak. It won’t make you a completely different person. You aren’t rude or violent regularly, so you won’t be that way after your surgery either. _I_ think you’ll probably be even sappier than usually.”

“Are you sure?” Simon asked, his voice small.

“Positive,” Baz nodded, leaning closer so as to press a kiss to Simon’s warm forehead. When he pulled back, he devoted half a minute to fix his boyfriend’s mussed-up curls, which Simon had been yanking at the entire car ride from their flat to the surgery, despite Baz’s insistence that he was going to be bald by the time they arrived if he kept it up.

Simon glanced down at his watch — a practical (and stylish) Christmas gift from Daphne and Malcolm — to find that they had just a few minutes until they were due for his appointment.

“Well,” he said, exhaling a long, slow breath, “Suppose we’d best be on our way.”

“It wouldn’t do to be late,” Baz agreed. “There aren’t many things you dislike more than being late to an appointment.”

 _That_ did the trick. Simon rolled his broad shoulders back, huffed once, and marched towards the glass doors of the building. Baz followed behind him, doing his best to suppress a smile at how easy it was to convince Simon of something, if one just played the right cards.

They took the lift up to the 10th floor and checked in with the surgery’s receptionist before taking their seats, side-by-side, in the small waiting room. Baz started in on the book he had brought to entertain himself during Simon’s procedure, and Simon chewed on the cap of a biro as he filled out a package of medical questions and waivers for the surgery. After a few minutes, a cheerful nurse came out from a back room, collected the clipboard, and invited him through a door into what Baz guessed was the procedure room.

“Wish me luck,” Simon said, swallowing hard.

“You won’t need it,” Baz assured him. “Just breathe, alright?” Baz pulled him into a tight hug and gave him a brief peck to the lips before sending him off with the nurse, whose open-mouthed, heart-eyed expression gave Baz the impression that she was probably one of those people who congratulated same-sex couples on the street if she saw them holding hands. At least she wasn’t a bigot, he thought, silently hoping she would be able to assuage Simon’s fears in his absence.

Though he was nervous on Simon’s behalf, Baz took comfort in the knowledge that his boyfriend was one courageous fuck.

* * * * *

A little over an hour later, the nurse returned to the waiting room, this time to invite Baz through the mysterious white door that led somewhere back behind the reception desk. They passed several shelves full of alphabetized patient records in manila folders, a small room with a sink and toilet, and finally arrived in what the nurse explained was the “recovery area”. The place smelled of blood and antiseptic, the least delicious combination Baz could think of just then. It was a good thing he’d fed that morning, anticipating the possibility of exposure to blood. And the source of the blood, of course, was Simon, who was reclined in a cushy hydraulic chair in the centre of the room, his lower body covered with a scratchy-looking hospital blanket.

“How’d it go, love?” Baz asked as he approached, willing his fangs to stay tucked up in his gums where they belonged. Simon glanced up at the sound of his voice, and his eyes went wide with genuine excitement.

“Baz, it’s you!” He crowed, speaking far too loudly for an indoor environment. “Deb, this is my boyfriend. I told you about him, remember?”

“Yes, you certainly did,” the nurse said, pressing her lips together as she glanced towards Baz. His cheeks were flushed pink,

“Baz, they took my teeth!” Simon told him, his voice a bit muffled. “And look, blood!” Just then, Simon yanked a thick hunk of gauze (soaked in blood, of course) from within his mouth and dangled it towards his boyfriend. “Can you smell it, honey?”

“Crowley below,” Baz groaned, pressing a hand to his forehead. “Simon, I think you’re meant to keep that in your mouth.” Based on the nurse’s insistence than she be allowed to tuck a fresh gauze pad into Simon’s cheek, he was correct on that front. She gingerly took the bloody one in a nitrile-gloved hand and deposited it in the nearest trash bin.

“Did you know, Deb,” Simon asked the nurse, “That Baz and I used to be roommates at school? Seven whole years, and I thought he hated me the whole time!” The nurse glanced between her patient and his chaperone with raised eyebrows.

“Oh, you don’t have to tell that story,” Baz said, taking Simon’s hand in his. “That’s alright, love. Let’s just hear what the nurse has to say about taking care of you now that you’ve had your surgery.” He had glimpsed an information package on a nearby rolling tray and guessed that an education session (with at least one person in their right mind) was on the nurse’s list of to-do’s.

“I kissed him! On Christmas Eve,” Simon barrelled on, ignoring Baz’s quiet protests. “Right on the lips, Deb, because I _loved_ him.”

“That’s so sweet,” the nurse cooed, patting Simon’s right hand, in which an IV lock was still inserted. “Now, hold still for a moment while I take this out, okay?”

“Anything for you, Deb,” Simon told her, cocking his head slightly as he watched her press a ball of gauze against his skin. He tried to lift it up to get a look at what was underneath, but she shooed his curious fingers away to prevent any unnecessary bleeding.

Once the IV was dealt with, she devoted a few minutes to post-surgical education, giving Baz a lists of do’s and don’ts: no to alcohol, caffeine, smoking, and using straws, yes to soft foods, ice packs, and painkillers as prescribed. They were to watch for signs of infection or excessive bleeding, which Simon assured Deb with a wink that Baz would be an expert on that front.

“He’s a vampire, you know,” Simon whisper-shouted, holding a hand in front of his mouth as if it would prevent Baz from hearing him. Instead of panicking, though, Baz flashed a grin (sans fangs) at the nurse and winked, using Simon’s ridiculousness to his advantage. The nurse just laughed and handed over the education materials to Baz.

“You’re free to go, as long as Simon is able to walk,” she informed him. “No driving for the rest of the day or operating heavy machinery, and I’d suggest he load up on painkillers so that when the local anesthetic — the freezing in his mouth — wears off, it won’t be so bad.”

“Will do,” Baz nodded, thanking the nurse for her help. Once she had left the room, Baz grasped Simon’s hands and carefully hoisted him out of the chair, instructing his giggly boyfriend to walk a few steps but to stay within reach, just in case his balance was off.

“You're handsome, y’know that?” Simon slurred, trying to arch an eyebrow seductively, but utterly failing. “Always thought so, even at Watford. Thought you looked bloody fit in your football kit.”

“Oh really?” Baz wondered, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards ever so slightly. He drew Simon against his chest, being careful not to touch his face.

“Mmm-hmmm,” Simon nodded, smiling up at Baz as best he could with cheeks stuffed full of gauze. “Penny thought I was mad.”

“You were.”

“Mad for _you_ ,” Simon corrected, grasping at Baz’s pale face with one hand. Before Baz could pull away, Simon squished his cheeks together and gave him pouty fish lips, which sent him straight into another fit of giggles.

“All right, let’s get you home,” Baz said, tucking Simon beneath his arm. “You need to lie down and have a nap before you tell any more of our secrets to unsuspecting dental staff.”

Eventually, he managed to usher Simon out of the office and into the lift, where he proceeded to lurch forward and run his fingers over the buttons for _every single floor_ in the building — all 26 of them — before Baz could stop him.

“Simon,” Baz groaned, drawing out the vowels in despair. “Did you really have to do that?”

“Did you bring any jelly?” Simon asked as though he hadn’t even heard Baz’s complaint. “I wanted to bring some, but Pen said I wasn’t allowed to eat ‘fore the surgery.”

“No, but you have about a hundred jelly cups waiting for you at home,” Baz informed him crossly as the elevator reached the eleventh floor, opened its doors to admit no passengers, and closed them again. “Which is too bad, because we’re going to die of old age waiting for this lift to reach the ground floor.”

“That’s okay,” Simon said, leaning against Baz’s chest and looking up at him with a dopey grin, their faces so close that Baz could probably count Simon’s freckles if he wanted to. “S’long as we’re together.”


End file.
